


Once Upon A Time

by tawktomahawk



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fantasy Novelists, Fluff and Crack, imagine Jaime but in a peacoat with a treasured first edition copy of the hobbit, silly and lighthearted because wtf world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:54:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23337214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tawktomahawk/pseuds/tawktomahawk
Summary: Jaime is an eccentric fantasy novelist in love with his co-writer, and Brienne is constantly trying not to laugh at him."All love is magic. Which came first: spells or the sparks that inspired them? Metaphors are such messes. Chickens and eggs. All I know is that I love you."
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 47
Kudos: 150





	Once Upon A Time

**Author's Note:**

> What strange times we’re living in! I felt a bit off today and wrote this as a happy distraction. Hope you’re all doing well <3

“Wench, I have an idea.” 

Jaime is sprawled on their bottle green Charleston, his long left leg perched on his right knee. Brienne has been watching him warily for the better half of an hour; specifically, the glass of bourbon balancing on his thigh. She’s pretty sure he can tell it's making her nervous. By now, the ice has melted, and certainly his legs are in desperate need of repositioning. If he spills booze on their sofa….

Brienne debates standing to grab the drink when Jaime snatches the glass, downs the dark liquor, and nearly shouts the repeated phrase. 

“An idea, wench! It's been ages. Worse than writer’s block—I thought I’d been stripped of my wit. Me, without wit!” 

Brienne looks at him blankly. “You’d have been unrecognizable.” 

He smirks. “You’d spot my pretty face in a crowd of thousands, wit or not.” 

Her eyes scan his lean body. He looks unjustly handsome in his ridiculous striped sweater. A fucking crewneck. Brienne hates attractive people. “Not necessarily,” she tells him, feigning indifference. “You get this look on your face. Like you’re proud of being insufferable. Your eyes start to narrow, and you smirk a little bit. I don’t actually know if I’ve ever seen you without it. A pleasant Jaime Lannister? I’ve no idea what he looks like.” 

He watches her, amused, and entirely aware that she’s lying. “This is why we need each other, Brienne. I was always the worst at character descriptions. But even the best stories are make-believe, and you can’t tell a lie to save your life.” 

Brienne rolls her eyes. “You said you had an idea?”

“Yes, yes.” He slaps his hands on his knees and wipes them back and forth, almost nervously. “I did. And I’ll need your feedback. Don’t hold back.” He stands and comes to stand near her, so close she can feel the heat of him. She goes tingly all over. “You know how I feel about your honesty,” he says in a sultry voice. “Gods, Brienne, the brilliance you spout sometimes. It's fodder for a thousand stories. I’d write them all for you, but unfortunately, you’d have to transcribe them for me.” He holds up his right arm, ending at his wrist, and waves it in front of her. 

_He is the single most ridiculous man I’ve ever known._ She smiles a bit. 

“Wench, be my dour doll and just go get the computer. Open a fresh document. Take a good, long look at that cursed blinking line. The cursor! What an apt name. You know what I see when I look at it?” 

Brienne goes to retrieve her laptop and flips it open, settling into Jaime’s newly vacant seat. It’s still warm. “What do you see?” 

“A sideways door. It's there and then it's gone and then it's back again. Where does it go? I know. You know. But it's our secret.” He lowers his syrupy voice. “To everyone else, it’ll be a surprise.” 

She fixes him with an unamused glare, the one that always makes him laugh. “I don’t know any secrets. Because you haven’t told me your idea.”

He waves his hand, smiling at her, and blessedly begins. “Once upon a time—”

“No.”

“Many years ago—”

“No.”

“ _Wench_. Magic. Whimsy. They are the antithesis of our modern world. We must go _back_ in time—”

“We can do that without being ridiculous.” She types away for a bit, and when Jaime looks down at the screen, the damned white document has a blessed spattering of characters across the top of the page. _The creek bed had long run dry, but the grass still lay flat. Above them, stars speckled the inky blue. It would be cold tonight, and they laid their bedrolls beside each other._

“Brienne, what would I do without you?” 

“Descend into the fiery pits of eccentricity, never to be heard from again.” 

“Quite right.” Jaime takes a big, gulping breath. “Now, in all seriousness, this will be a love story. Our two characters are James and Beatrice. They’re both knights, in spirit and name.” 

She types away dutifully. 

Jaime watches her from the corner of his eye. “He is remarkably handsome. Women and men everywhere—” 

She holds up a large, freckled hand. “Jaime, we’ve discussed this. Fantasy is meant to _subvert_ this hellish capitalist existence. Beauty is one of the first ways in which we quantify our worth. Our hero doesn’t need to be—” 

“He has to be handsome in this one, Brienne. Trust me, he’s still an idiot.” 

Brienne sighs, but nods for him to continue. 

“So, our handsome young knight meets Beatrice while he’s in captivity. She’s honorable and good, his match in every conceivable way.”

“Two perfect heroes?” Brienne is skeptical.

“No, no. Neither is perfect. Well, she nearly is. But she’s not conventionally beautiful, which is hardly a flaw to begin with, but it takes the stupid man too long to embrace it. Besides, they’ll be narrative parallels. You know how I feel about narrative parallels, Brienne. The eroticism of it all…”

Jaime weaves the tale. James and Beatrice meet, and at first, they despise each other. Jaime claims that the handsome knight has a tarnished reputation, and the unconventional woman has a weathered soul. It’s a simple story, much more so than Jaime’s typical plot lines. There’s no angst or drama, no gut-wrenching twists, and not a single bout of sex or violence—quite rare for Jaime. His writing—and him, if Brienne is honest—is typically drenched in hedonism. 

“Jaime,” she interjects after ten minutes of his rambling, “the story is sweet. There’s also almost nothing interesting about it. It’s entirely obvious that these two belong together. Any plot obstacle would be annoying and inorganic.”

Jaime’s face brightens. “I agree entirely!”

“Then what’s stopping them?”

Jaime throws his arm over his eyes dramatically, and then lifts it to peek at her. 

“He’s stupid. _So_ stupid, Brienne. You’d barely believe it.” 

“He is being quite stupid. You’re sure you want him to be this stupid?” 

Jaime is a bit offended. “Yes. Very sure. Anyways, James is trying to propose a date to this ox. He’s been dropping hints for months, and he’s getting quite desperate. He’s contemplating begging.” Jaime drops to his knees on the floor in front of Brienne. “Like so. And he says the words.” 

Jaime looks up at her, his face oddly sincere. “Will you go on a date with me?” 

Brienne squints at him and looks back at her laptop, drumming her fingers against the keyboard. “Such a modern way of putting it. Are we consciously including anachronisms? I’m not sure—”

Jaime huffs. “No. _Brienne_. Will you date me?” 

“We can use that if you’re sure.” She shrugs. “I don’t hate it. Saying ‘courting’ would be better.” 

Jaime tugs on her sleeve desperately, forcing her to look at him. “Will _you_ date _me_?” He points, for good measure. 

Brienne pauses for a moment. “The desperation is a bit out of character for James. He comes across quite suave—” 

Jaime is furious. “Cruel, wretched woman! Date me, godsdamnit! I’ve been in love with you for ages.” 

He abandons subtlety and surges forward to kiss her. The laptop slides off of her lap, and they both break apart to place it reverently on the coffee table before them. They come together again in a flurry of passionate limbs.

“Curse the story, wench. It was an allegory. It was us. I thought I was being creative. I should’ve known not to attempt that without you.” He runs a hand through her short hair. “Will you please go on a date with me?” 

Brienne stares at him. “We...we already live together.” 

Jaime grins lopsidedly. “Yes, but it’s all so painfully platonic. The things I’d do to you on our Charleston...” 

She feels herself flush. Jaime Lannister will be the death of her; she’s never been so certain of anything in her life. 

“How does that line in your favorite movie go?” The man needs to stop talking. “ _You have bewitched me…_ ”

Yes, the death of her. “Magic isn’t real, Jaime.” 

“All love is magic. Which came first: spells or the sparks that inspired them? Metaphors are such messes. Chickens and eggs. All I know is that I love you.” 

She kisses him again. And again and again, just for good measure. _His match,_ he’d said. Perhaps she and Jaime should move away from fantasy novels and dabble in romantic fiction. 

Jaime kisses her neck, and truly, it’s all over from there. He unbuttons her shirt almost halfway before he freezes. 

“Wench,” he says, dropping a kiss to her sternum. He looks up at her through thick golden lashes, his green eyes alluring and apologetic. “I hate to break the moment, but for real this time, I have an idea.” 

Brienne sighs heavily, but this is their way, their original dance. There will be time later to christen their Charleston. She sits up and saves James and Beatrice's story to read later, when she can cherish it and squeal properly. Really, it was all very sweet of him. She nods at Jaime to begin. 

“Imagine this,” he says. “A boy who can’t walk, but can see…”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr (same user as here!): tawktomahawk. I'd love to be your friend on there! It's a nice and necessary escape these days, right?


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